Loom Loom Zoom

Here come the 'O' Levels, and there go the unappreciative, generally unprepared students. A bittersweet sending-off at the annual Grad Night- I can never really decide whether or not I'm more relieved than "sad and proud" to let go of these boys. A teacher should never feel this way, I suppose, but heck, women everywhere should have universal D cups and men should all come with 8 inchers, so there. The saddest bit about the school's annual leavers' ceremony is the fact that the boys all turn up in what they think are stylish outfits- office wear with as much sizzle as a skillet in the antarctic. I pretended to be enthusiastic. After all, it's not everyday these boys get to play dress up in a legitimate context, some more stylishly than the others, but generally painful to watch. Over-gelled hair, mismatched ties, a sea of blue shirts... it was like a G2000 warehouse sale.

"Su Xue lao shi, gen wo pai zhao!"

At least I had kids coming up to me for pictures. Like the run-of-the-mill Glitterati, Su Xue style...

The O levels didn't serve to dampen their spirits, it was as if the damned thing were over. Can't blame them for that, exams exist to make themselves feel unwanted. Even for teachers.

In other news, I was at Starbucks the other day with Cindy, in one of those rare moments where she's not gyrating with James in one of their increasingly sordid locations (their last adventure, according to Cindy anyway, was at his condo jacuzzi. I don't even want to think about it). So I was talking to her about work, men, the usual pizazz- all this in Mandarin of course. And then, I noticed this pair of bitches at the table next to ours who were obviously bitching about Cindy and I. You know how people look at you when they think you can't see, but you do see them out of the corner of your eye, and then suddenly stop talking when you turn around? Yeah, that. So I pretended to listen to Cindy while she went on about something thoroughlly inconsequential... and I swear I overheard the following:

"Stupid study mama, cannot stand these China people."

Oh my God! Bitch!

Yeah, that's what I said, and the two of them nearly choked on their biscotti. Bwaha, Su Xue, vindicated!

I don't know what the deal is with Singaporeans and dissing Chinese people. I realise that some of my countrymen leave more to be desired in this country, and trust me, I've heard stories that shock me even till today. But just as there are ugly Chinese people, there are ugly Singaporeans. I don't appreciate the assertion that people from China who come to this island are necessarily study mamas and uncultured swine- just because there is a prevalent Western model in this country and virtually everywhere else in this world, doesn't give the English speaking Asian a prerogative to be so... condescending? I don't know, I can't even describe it. Maybe racist. Yes. I think if a Singaporean Chinese disses a Mainland Chinese, that is overt racism, because the only thing Chinese about a Singaporean Chinese is the colour of his skin. Which is why I am here in this country to teach people the language, literally teach- as would a French teacher, or a German teacher. You get the drift.

But that aside, the only reason why I was galvanised to such annoyance by those ignorant girly-bitches is 'cuz they called me a Study Mama. My god, I do not look like a Study Mama, damn.

Beijing

I can't remember why I wanted to start blogging, so I spent this holiday keeping away from it. I mean, there are only 2 times a year where I can enjoy a protracted separation from the kids without having to troop back to school for Wushu or something equally pointless, so why spend it on something so impossibly simian as blogging?

Alternatively, it could have been because I was back in Beijing!

Beijing was more out of an obligation than anything. I can't say I've been missing home terribly, especially since the family swept down for a visit in May, or it may be because I've been in Singapore for too long. I swear, there is something terribly infectious about this country's 'stayer' and 'quitter' thingamajig, though it apparently seems to affect the wrong people. But back to Beijng.

So it wasn't as cold as it could've been, and I would've loved to be back in winter, seeing as to how it's always steaming here in Singapore. Did the usual, reunion dinner with the dynasties, shopping, bitching with Ling about Singapore women, because Chinese women are so very afraid of being loose. The worst thing about going back is not so much having to familiarise myself with my family again (which, in itself, is rather tragic), as it is seeing how everyone's grown since the last visit. It makes me feel guilty, almost alien, if you get what I'm saying. Ling, for instance, has become so much prettier and 'ang mo' as Singaporeans would put it. She's wearing make-up, dammit. I would be proud of her, if she could do a better job out of it. Ling's my sister, by the way, 18 this year. She's got big dreams, many of which revolve around Singapore, and I fear I may have been a rather big part of that. We can only wonder, I suppose. I was still stuck in Beijing at 18.

It's also sad that I went back to tour Beijing. It felt more like a holiday than a homecoming, it suddenly didn't feel stupid to take pictures at Sun Dong'an and heck, you know something's wrong when you visit museums.

I just realised I don't particularly enjoy talking about Beijing, because it makes me feel more like an outsider than anything. And Cindy was extracting it out of me like I had come back from a Star Tour, I almost slapped her when she asked for souvenirs. Maybe I'm getting touchy.

If I can figure out how to stick photos here, I'll stick up some random shots, though I don't see the point. China makes me melancholic. The people there are different. You sure as hell won't meet women like Cindy there, at least not to my knowledge. They're so desperate to break out of there, I wonder if young people here in S'pore realise how lucky they are. To that effect, I have never been wholly supportive of the Speak Mandarin Campaign. Perhaps because it seems to force roots onto people who should be breaking free of them. And it corrupts the language, I feel. I never tell my students: "as a Chinese, you must speak Mandarin!" The kids here aren't Chinese, nor should they be. Theirs is a country without a heritage to bog them down, and deservedly so. Mandarin is more like a tool than a collective ethos here, at least in my students' generation, and ethnic argumets won't win them over.

I've observed... if you're good in Chinese, you're 'Cheena'. It's adopting someone else's culture rather than yours, no matter how long-buried. I think there is a Singaporean ethos here, multi-cultural as is supposed, but not so ethnocentric. That's what I think anyway. I prefer telling my students that Mandarin is just one of the many languages they can learn, and it's up to them whether they want to give a shit. Just because some Western big shot speaks Mandarin, it's nothing to lose sleep over if you suck at it. I think that's called being 'kiasu', in vernacular tongue anyway. If there's something Singaporeans should be ashamed of not being able to speak, it's singlish. The language policies in this country are befuddling.

For the record, I do speak it, more often than I do English. This of course to satisfy my critics, for what they're worth. Which reminds me of why I started blogging... I like writing in English, because then I don't get marginalised. Plus, I need to tell someone about Cindy, with whom James is still getting on with frightening regularity, but I'm in too frigid a disposition to go on about that tonight.

And so it begins. Again.

Apologies, scant readers, for my lack of updates. Work hasn't been that bad, I'm just too lazy to regale my online public with the insipid details of my life (or, for that matter, Cindy's).

I shan't blog about school today, by virtue of the fact that nothing out of the ordinary has occured in the good old hellhole. The students are still impetuous, though I think they've turned their focus away from annoying me (not that they've stopped) to simply zoning out during my lessons. What interests me, of course, is the fact that there's been an influx of those adorable trainee teachers.

Ah, how the naive amuse! I have this annoying prat of a Singaporean girl who keeps tailing me around in an attempt to soak up the aura of the seasoned civil servant, sitting in on all my lessons, trying to pick up some new skills (to date, I believe she's learnt 5 hokkien expletives she probably never heard before)... soon, I shall let her take over the class and see how she's gonna shield herself from the boys. Damn! I can't stand her zeal, it's so nauseatingly prissy.

She, in English: "Su lao shi, will you let me mark some of the boys' homework?"
Me: "Ah. Whatever for?"
She: "I think the first hand experience will be good for me!"

Someone give her a brownie-point overdose already. She can HAVE my job, for all I care. I'd rather be a trainee again, and remind myself why I wanted to be a teacher. If it was for the rewards, I'm still waiting. I can't wait to see her idealism crushed under the weight of bureaucratic-hypocrisy. Ha, I can already imagine the withering smile.

I was telling Zhong Zhong about this and the woman gave me a face that reeked of "bitch". Clearly, the woman is made up of stronger moral fibre than I am. For all intents and purposes, I will quickly add that Zhong is leading a very fruitful relationship with the traineeS attached to her over at her school. She claims that it's a symbiotic affair, where she "learns from guiding". My only response to that was to snort out my food mid-meal. She's classic, I assure you.

Lian is finally back from all her overtime at work. I'm beginning to wonder what it is these advertising people do to keep them so busy. The poor girl's been so stuck at the office, the only time Cindy and I see her is in the morning, where we but have a glimpse at her fleeting figure dashing out of the door.

Speaking of Cindy, I must admit that I'm beginning to feel sorry for her. I normally don't give a shit about the men she dates (and how they subsequently turn out to be trash), but it breaks my heart to see her going out with this total ASSHOLE. There I was, coming back from work the other day, and I see Cindy (who has her OWN work to do) ironing this huge pile of his clothes (to James' credit, they're pretty expensive looking). I just stood there and gawked. Cindy doesn't do any housework to save her life, and there she was leaving (well-intentioned) scorches on his Pierre Cardins. Amazing. If there's one thing she's getting out of this relationship, I'll have to assume it's the sex. Given how the moaning at night never surpasses 5 minutes, however, I'll have to assume yet again that he's getting all the... utility.

I mean... the bastard! He uses her like some penis-pump, makes her clean his clothes (for the record, doesn't he have a MAID?) and turns the her into some obsequious cavewoman... exactly what does she stand to gain from being his pleasure-vehicle? His wallet? How shallow can a woman be?

Oh wait.

On a happier note, Amy is pregnant! And because she's under 30, she can get all those happy baby bonuses! The lucky wench! Aha, look at what the 'Procreate Singapore' campaign has done to us. I shall go treat her to something good this weekend, there's no better way to get that body going than with a good carbohydrate-rich buffet. I want my godbaby to be cute and adorable, at least for the first 5 months, so I can have an excuse for buying baby things every day. I love babies! I just wish men didn't have to come as part of the package.

Alas, I think I've been questioning my own sexuality as of late. The horror! All the other ladies at work have been gushing over that new PE teacher who, to his credit, does look pretty good. Oh spare me the infatuated fangirls.

Horror

I've neglected this blog by virtue (or lack thereof, actually) of the sheer enormousness of my workload lately. The Chinese Department's been doing some major restructuring which, in essence, means more paperwork for all of us. Don't think I should blog about work, lest I get out of it.

Bah humbug, I haven't come upon that blissful opportunity to do my Donne recital. Not yet. The classes haven't been too irritating lately, just a couple of the usual expletives here and there, but nothing major like mother-insulting or China-slurring. I think they've been rather jolted by the Chinese results, though given their rather simian outlook to education, they seem to harbour the blame for bad results on their teachers. This even when I return their rubbish compositions promptly, this even when I invest so much effort into my lessons and this even when I have to deal with the fact that they're more interested in exploiting my purported English-illiteracy than in listening to what I have to say. Sigh, students.

On a lighter(headed) note...

The Cindy-James saga is very much in full swing, and I think he's getting deeper into Cindy, this in more ways than one (need I continue?). The poor girl is in love with him, I suppose. Just the other day, I counted at least 50 "James"s in under 15 minutes of pointless conversation with her, though I suspect that she's more infatuated with his money-collection than with anything else. Then again, he's supposedly hung as a horse, though she hasn't been with a man in so long, I think she's lost her sense of proportion. Oh, naughty Su Xue.

Zhong Zhong, on the other hand, has taken ill (flu and fever, apparently) and I haven't seen the poor woman in a week or so. I was just talking to her on the phone and it seems the relief posted to her class has been wreaking havoc. Poor girl, damn the flu.

Ah well, off to serving Singapore's education system. The irony.

Back to school

Needless to say, work was terrible today. I don't even know where I'm finding the time/mental energy to blog now...

'O' Level results were released today, and, to my utmost (and wholly expected) disappointment, the Chinese results were... not worth talking about.

A few A1s sprinkled over the place, and a bulk of Cs and Bs... Mei Rong is not pleased, though I don't think she blames the department. How much can you drill into a bunch of restless hooligans who sleep through Chinese lessons as if on narcotics?

The school didn't do well on the whole. Drops in standard in virtually every subject except maths... what is everything coming to?

The P, of course, was full of his usual rhetoric, though I don't see how anyone could ever sugar-coat this year's results.

"You've done the school proud! Now go on and fly away, and bring glory to the school!"

The bullshit he feeds the kids is toxic, I tell you. Delusional, exaggerated, blind.... can't wait for his term to be over. Then again, I'll be back home by then.

Zhong Zhong, of course, was all smiles. Excellent results, as per normal. Annoying, if you ask me. What else is one to expect from a school that takes in the best and pressure-cooks them to perfection?

4E3 was unnervingly quiet today as I went through their seniors' Chinese grades. Spooked, perhaps, to see so many D7s. I wanted to feel sorry for them, then I remembered my 'great commission' to recite Shakespeare to their smirking faces in the near future.

Perhaps I should give myself a countdown...

Cindy did go out with that urchin James today. On my second encounter with this wretched specimen of the male species, I found him to be unusually good-looking. He came over to pick her up, Mercedes expensive clothes and the rest of the bruhaha flashing about like some proud penis. Good-looking but the testosterone put me off. Cindy was all over him though, certainly giving his ego a good stroking. Last I heard, they were off to some fancy-pants restaurant I've never even heard of, to sample, in James' "Yale Drawl": "the fabulous Boullabaise (spelling?)" and "that splendid Arrabiata"... *drawls on* "charming creme brulee..."... "excellent wines..."... *yawn*

Alright, I'm probably exaggerating the drawl here. No human could speak like that at length and not risk being interned by the ISD for being a foreign-educated, American-accent touting yuppie NOT in some way or another involved in local politics.

Oh yes, she managed to squeeze into that tank-top after all, overflowing boobs and everything. I do believe James got quite perked up by that excessive display of cleavage. So much for the entree, he'll probably get down with the main course later tonight. So long as it's not at our place. I'm a light sleeper. That would place James as one of the myriad of horny bastards whom she welcomes adoringly into her... I don't know... life? Let's see... there was Gerald the policeman (he didn't last long after he revealed his paycheck...), Wai Teck the ??? (quite dishy, but I think he quite scared her with his voracious appetite for the more sensual things in life)... Maybe the list isn't that long, but I wouldn't be one to question how 'budding' our little flower is. If she weren't such a good friend of mine, I'd have stabbed her in the loins by now.

Lian is working overtime tonight, I think she's going to burn out before this month is done. Poor woman.

Hunger pangs

I have a craving for my favourite xi yang cai tang from Balestiar Road. Think I will haul Zhong Zhong over there for supper and alcohol. Need a good bitch out with that woman. Cindy and Lian are too busy with work tonight, though the former seems more pre-occupied with fitting into that miniscule tank-top of hers than any real 'work'.

I can't believe how quickly the weekend is expiring. I have my students' shitty essays to mark, none of which will "galvanise" me to any artistic epiphanies. Why do I do this? I hate my bond, dammit.

Another day

No one told me teaching in Singapore would be so fucked up.

Just because I communicate in Chinese 99% of the time seems to give my students the impression that I'm incapable of enunciating and understanding anything beyond 'Okay' and 'Hello'. My 4E3 Chinese class thus thinks it apt to greet me with a rousing "Fuck you" everytime I walk into the classroom, and insult me with their vernacular expletives. I'm getting quite tired of humouring their rather... trusting natures. It goes against my own principles to allow any student of mine to get away with calling me a stuck-up Chinese tart with rancid genitalia. I'm planning my big 'reveal' ala The Swan, where I shall walk magnificently into class and recite Shakespeare and Donne.

A Chinese national reciting "Sweetest Love I do not goe..." before 40 of the most obnoxious young men imaginable who, prior to the melodrama, thought her incapable of asking for something as simple as directions to the toilet in English. What joy shall fill my heart. Su Xue vindicated!

On a lighter note, I went shopping with Cindy again. The crazy woman blew off $500 out of her bonus buying clothes that, given her current splurge on food, won't fit in a few weeks' time. Poor girl, I should've warned her when she greedily checked out that tacky tank top at MANGO. I've seen her squirm to fit into roomier articles. I smell an imminent date with that James character she picked up last Saturday. He reeks of an un-virgin bastard, if you ask me, the type who likes girls who flash everything there is to flash... makes it easier in the bedroom, methinks.

Poor girl, she's always picking up the trash from the streets. Must have something to do the "whore-complex" she wears about her like cheap perfume.

Ah well.